Frame
by VisualVendetta
Summary: Shaun Hastings was trying to move as far away from the dramatics of his hometown as possible. He thought that University would be much easier to cope with, but between an idiot roommate and a handful of insane friends, he discovered an entirely new set of ways for life to be incredibly fucked up-now it just happens to come with a thesis.
1. Chapter 1

Shaun's decision to go to school abroad was one that he had mulled over for years before actually making his choice, hell; he had most of his life planned out since grade 6! Leaving everything behind was not an easy task though, and as he pulled his bags out of the trunk of the vehicle, he was resisting the urge to just drop this plan and go back to England. Shaun gripped the handle on his laptop case tightly, and with a slight nod to reassure himself, headed towards the registration table that would begin his journey through university.

"Hello and welcome to Animus University! I'm assuming you're here to register, correct?" Shaun gave a curt nod. "Alrighty then, name please?" The woman began rifling through her sheets, trying to find the listing. Shaun internally scoffed. '_Not very well prepared for someone handling new students', _he thought to himself_._ Apparently the sheet was closer than he thought, because the woman was looking at him expectantly when he looked up again. Shaun fumbled for his name.

"Erm, Shaun Hastings." The list was quickly scanned, and from what Shaun could see, there were hundreds of names. That was definitely not helping his nerves-he had never been in an environment with so many people, growing up in a small town does that.

"Right! So you are room 416 in dorm building three, and orientation is at four in the main hall. You can find everything you need on this map," The girl handed a package over, map on top with a bold 'you are here!' marker where the table would be on the lawn. "And there's an information package about all of the activities Animus offers, as well as events and whatnot. Have a look through that, and enjoy your time at Animus U!" The woman sent him off with a cheery smile which Shaun attempted to return, though it turned out looking much more like a grimace.

Shaun followed the path to his dorm, trying to avoid as many other people as he could along the way. He was nervous enough as is, and probably would be until classes started on Monday. His accent tended to be a giant beacon of 'look at me, I'm a foreigner!' as proven earlier in the airport when he was mobbed by practically every shady salesperson he encountered (where he rather impolitely told them to all bugger off-they all had a great laugh at that). The building itself was still quiet, as it was rather early on in the day and most students didn't show up until around two. The Brit easily found his room, and promptly deposited all of his bags in one of the bedrooms- after a good twenty minutes, those things got quite heavy, it's not like he'd admit it though, or he had anyone to admit it to.

The layout of the dorm was decent; it had a rather large open space with a kitchen area on one side and a sitting area and TV on the other. There were two bedrooms, and a bathroom that divided them. The extra space might have cost extra money, but it was worth it when Shaun didn't have anywhere else to go for most of the year. Staying in one place for that long, he better have picked something liveable.

Shaun opened up his suitcase, and began unpacking all things essential-mainly his laptop. Clothing could wait, but his blog definitely needed to be updated. No sense in waiting until after orientation, because really, the entire thing is more or less just a glorified tour. Curling up on the couch with the entry page already open, he pondered how he was going to put things into words.

_Leaving home is...interesting. No matter how prepared one feels, when you finally touch ground in that other place, it's scary. As much as I didn't feel welcome back in England, I can't be sure if America is really that much better, I mean, all this is so...so alien! I'm in a city I know next to nothing about really, sure, there's information on it, but you won't actually know anything about a place (especially one such as New York) unless you experience it first-hand. Wow, all of a sudden the idea to go abroad seems really fucking idiotic (thanks guys). _

_Anyways, there hasn't really been much going on yet. I ran into some right assholes in the airport, vendors who couldn't get enough of my accent. Not really what I was expecting, considering that New York is relatively high-traffic area. The school itself is really not that bad so far, even though very little has happened. I've only seen a handful of other people around campus at this point, though I am very early, and the lists I saw stated otherwise-I assume that within a few hours this place will be full of energetic twats who are more into booze and parties than their educations. My roommate has yet to arrive, which I guess is a good thing, gives me first pick of the rooms that way, also time to calm down before I have to actively communicate with another person. _

_I guess I'll update you chaps on anything interesting at orientation-if there is anything-or if my roommate turns out to be a complete incompetent asshole. _

_Cheers,_

_Danny Wallace_

Shaun's online alias was one he had been using for several years, documenting the troubles that he has had with home life and whatnot. He has gained quite a few followers and supporters over the years, and they helped him decide on what path he should take with his future. He promised them that he would write as often as possible about his experiences, so he figured that he might as well get a head start.

Shaun sighed and posted his blog entry, then began unpacking his stuff and setting it up in his room. He was meticulous, and deciding what went where took a little time. When he was completely finished, it was already three, and he was surprised that his roommate had yet to arrive. Just then, there was a knock on the door, which was promptly swung open. In the frame stood a young man-'_Italian_', Shaun thought-with two armfuls of suitcases and bags.

"Do you need help with that?" Shaun asked the man bemusedly, who was rather obviously struggling with the amount of stuff that he was carrying.

"That would be...great, actually." The man shot Shaun a wide smile and passed off some of his bags, then followed him to the vacant bedroom. "Name's Desmond by the way, Desmond Miles. You look like you're pretty settled already," he indicated to the items that were set up around the room, and the open bedroom door that was quite obviously filled with stuff. "I...kind of got caught up in trying to decide what I wanted to bring with me-I'm selling my place since I'm too far away from the school. Oh, what's your name by the way?" Shaun looked bewildered by how fast the other man was talking, but caught the end of his rambling.

"I'm Shaun Hastings. Been here since about noon, that's when my flight got in." Desmond, who had begun rifling through the bag on his shoulder, looked up and smirked when he heard Shaun talk. "Oh, don't comment on my accent. I've gotten enough shit from the airport already today." He looked towards the other man, lips drawn thin. Desmond ducked his head again looking sheepish.

"Sorry man, I just thought it was pretty cool. I don't know many Brits who still have their accents." Desmond pushed open the door to his room with his foot and dropped his bags beside his bed, motioning for Shaun to do the same.

"Right, well we have the orientation to get to in an hour, so I'd suggest at least trying to unpack some things before then." Shaun walked back over to the couch and logged back onto his blog, reading some of the comments since he had an hour to kill, not once offering to help Desmond. '_Serves him right for showing up so late, having to deal with all that shite by himself'_ Shaun thought to himself smugly.

An hour later and Desmond was maybe a third of a way through all of his stuff, trying to find his hoodie that he had taken off whilst Shaun was trying to usher him out the door. People were filing by in the hallway, other first years who, unlike Desmond, had a sense of time and were capable of not being embarrassingly late. "Come on Desmond, we're actually going to be late if you don't move your arse!" Shaun yelled back over his shoulder from the doorway. A couple of seconds later Desmond was stumbling out of his room, trying to get his arms into his sweater. He grinned at Shaun on his way past, who rolled his eyes again at his new companion. The two men strolled down the hallway together, and Desmond attempted to start up a conversation again.

"So Shaun, what did bring you all the way to America, anyways? I mean, it's not like England doesn't have its fair share of prestigious universities."

"A lot of things really, though the main reason being Animus has managed to pass Oxford with its history program, which is what I'm majoring in. That and the fact that I needed a change of pace from my home town." Shaun rolled his eyes at the last bit, '_damn right I needed a change in town, and country. It's difficult being constantly reminded of the people who were supposed to love you and instead kick you out on your ass'_ he thought to himself. Desmond nodded along with what he was saying.

"I hear you on the home town place man. New York is the polar opposite of fucking Hicksville, anything to get away from that. I've actually been here for a few years though, living across town. Thankfully I can still keep my job though, it's pretty much right in between my old apartment and the campus. Nicest bar I've ever been in, to be honest. The owner loves me, too."

"Wait, you work at a bar? Just how old are you?" Desmond looked mildly uncomfortable with the question, but answered regardless.

"I'm only 20, actually. Like I said, my boss really likes me, enough that he hired me on early-and I gotta say, I'm pretty good at what I do, too." Shaun actually stopped at that, right in time to wait for the elevator.

"You're kidding. Is that even legal? You know what, I don't want to know. Don't involve me in your...illicit shenanigans." He rested his hand on his forehead, digging his fingers into the skin above the bridge of his nose. Desmond just looked vaguely offended.

"Well what about you? You seem like mister stick-up-his-ass, and I'm not just saying that because you're British, I mean," The elevator pinged, and Shaun and Desmond stepped in together, Shaun's expression becoming more dire with every word coming out of the other's mouth. "You're wearing a fucking cardigan or whatever, and you were here ridiculously early, _and_ you're majoring in history. That sounds like the makings of someone who's seriously a loser, I mean; at least I know how to have fun, even if it is 'illicit'!" Desmond finished his rant a little pathetically, sounding incredibly whiny. They stepped out, and Shaun took a few 'calming' breaths before replying.

"Right, look you ignorant asswipe, simply because I care about finishing school and creating a successful career for myself doesn't actually prove anything about my personality or hobbies. You have _no idea_ about who I am or why I'm here. So what if I don't enjoy parties or drinking? I have my reasons, and they're pretty damn good, so why don't you just fuck off with your assumptions?" Shaun finished as they were nearing the gathering of students in the courtyard for orientation, heading over to the sign marked 'building three', pointedly trying to ignore Desmond. Desmond tried to stifle a laugh at the end of Shaun's tangent, and Shaun whipped his head back around to look at the other man. "What is it now, you cockney bastard?"

"Well you're just telling me not to assume anything, but you're doing the same thing with me and my bartending, dude. It's not like that's the whole story, I mean really. But whatever, I'm not going to take it that personally." Shaun sputtered at that, jumping to the defensive so quickly that he forgot about what he had just said. Just as he was about to reply, a woman at the front standing on a table cleared her throat, the chatter in the crowd dying off.

"Good evening first years! So nice to see so many of you out! My name is Lucy Stillman, and this is my partner, Rebecca Crane. We'll be leading your orientation. Now, since this is such a large group, we're going to get you to divide into two groups. Those with last names A to M, follow Rebecca over that way." Lucy pointed a little off to the left, and Rebecca hopped off of the table. Lucy continued, "And those with last names N to Z, follow me please." People split off in their designated directions, Shaun and Desmond going to meet with Rebecca together.

"Fucking brilliant, I'm with you again. I'm never going to catch a break, am I?" Desmond just laughed again, and Shaun tried to get a closer look at their. She was pretty short, and had hair that seemed to be styled into a mullet. She wore a pretty ridiculous tank top with some game related saying on it that passed way over Shaun's head. Her pants were worse, the style where they were super baggy and loose at the top, and tight through the lower leg. She seemed to be wearing suspenders too. Shaun was about to comment, but Rebecca clapped her hands to re-focus attention on her.

" 'Kay dudes, I'm not going to bother with introductions, let's just get rolling, cause we have enough stuff to cover." Rebecca motioned over her shoulder, and walked off towards a building that was labelled 'Literature', which was rather self explanatory. It seemed to be smaller than the other faculties, but still a decent size.

The group shuffled inside the glass doors, and was greeted by a huge foyer that also seemed to double as a library. The room was three stories high, and had bookshelves covering the walls. There were seating areas all over, with several computer areas scattered around. The receptionist at the sign out desk waved cheerfully to Rebecca on her way past. They stopped in practically the middle of the room, and Shaun was floored by the sheer number of books they had.

"Alright, so this crazy library is part of the English and literature hall. Initially that was all it was, the school library, but four or five years back Animus introduced a shit ton of new English courses and decided that it would be smart to simply expand on the library, so it houses all of the lecture halls for English. Follow me down this hallway and I'll show you what I'm talking about." Rebecca led the group through a series of wide archways, leading to a long hallway that was framed by doors that presumably led to lecture halls. "And these are the only lecture halls in the building. Pretty straightforward, right? Let's move on to the maths and sciences faculties."

The group was led out, to the large building in the center of the quad which was, once again, helpfully labeled with the subjects it housed. They shuffled inside, and unlike the library, the foyer on this building was white and sterile with red accents-a very modern style. There were signs along the walls to direct students where to go.

"This place is considerably more boring than the library, but whatever. Nothing particularly interesting to see in here, and I'm pretty sure that you'll be able to find your way around, considering like, everything on campus has been labelled. Right, moving on to Art and History!" Rebecca directed everyone back out of the building, this time moving at the back of the group. She caught Desmond's attention, who dragged Shaun over to her.

"Hey, you two look considerably more approachable than the tightasses at the front of the group. God, those guys would not shut up about some crazy-ass math equation they were working on, which really I have no interest in." Desmond laughed at that, Shaun merely shook his head.

"I'd like to think that _I'm_ not a tightass, I am an art student after all. Can't say about my roommate here though." Desmond replied, looking pointedly at Shaun with the last jibe.

"Hah, an art student, eh? So are you just overly pretentious then?" Desmond sputtered, and it was Shaun's turn to huff laughter. "I kid, I kid, though you might find that some-or most-of the art students here are, at least, they were in my year."

"Oh, so are you an art major too?"

"Nah, I'm minoring in graphic design though. Most of those first years were under the impression that they were going to be able to coast through on daddy's money, that it was a chump course. They didn't last past December though, thankfully. And what about you mister prim-and-proper? What's your major?" Rebecca asked, directing her attention to Shaun.

"Me? I'm majoring in history. My specialty is ancient Rome, though I'd like to think I'm fairly well-versed in most historical eras." Rebecca snorted laughter.

"Dude, you have a 'specialty', seriously? I'm not entirely sure whether I'm impressed or want to laugh in your face! Okay, that was probably mean, but still. Also, why the hell are you here for school? Doesn't some Ivy League University over in England have an impressive enough history program?" Shaun decided to ignore the jabs about his...preparedness, instead just rolling his eyes over another question about why he was here.

"If you really must know, Animus has passed most other universities in the capabilities of its history program. Not to mention that they've got a couple of legendary professors working here now. Seriously, what is _with_ you people and questioning why I'm 'here'? Bloody Americans." Shaun shook his head.

"Oh come on, I'm not that bad, especially compared to some Americans. Why, has your roommate-at least, I'm assuming that's what you guys are, sorry if I'm wrong-insulted your British pride somehow?"

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. Why did I have to get stuck with _him_-"

"Hey! I'm standing right beside you!"

"Ahem, as I was saying, _him_ of all people?" Desmond glared half-heartedly at Shaun, and Rebecca rolled her eyes, patting Shaun on the back-a little tougher than necessary.

"Oh, suck it up, princess, he doesn't seem that bad. We're here anyways, so you'll have to leave your bitch fight until later." Rebecca jogged back up to the front of the group, and they were indeed standing in front of the Arts and History building.

"Okay, this is our last major stop, and there's some pretty cool stuff inside, so let's speed this up!" The group was led inside, and there were indeed some very cool things inside. The entire foyer was covered with wall murals, some of famous artists and some of historical events, but everything was very colourful. The murals continued down the different hallways, in places even dipping across the floor or ceiling. There were skylights littering the ceiling, offering the glow of the sunset to help light the areas, casting a reddish hue over the paint.

"This is by far one of the coolest buildings on campus in appearance. The stuff on the walls is everywhere, and each year, some students are given the option to add to it, at least until the building runs out of space. All of the art studios can be found down the right, there are shop classes down the middle, which includes computer terminals, and you can find the history classes down the left there." Rebecca indicated down each hallway, though most of the students were caught up in their surroundings, not really paying attention to anything their guide was saying.

"Okay, we have one last stop on this mini-tour, and that's to the sports dome. Let's get this wrapped up!" Everyone filed back out of the building, the air cooling down as the sun set. Rebecca hung back around Shaun and Desmond again, and the three made their way in companionable silence. The 'sports dome' was huge, obviously holding multiple fields within. Beside it there was a football stadium, the high lights already on, casting the field in an almost unnatural light. Shaun heard Desmond whistle low under his breath, and he agreed with the sentiment. The sheer size of the one field was impressive, and the fact that they had three was a little insane.

"Yeah, as you can see, Animus really likes its sports teams-the Animus Assassins. It's a pretty great name actually, though most of the sports share the same one, which is a little odd, but hey, whatever. There'll be listings for these within the next week where you'll be able to sign up for the different teams. In fact, there's a general club signup Tuesday next week. Don't forget guys, 'cause that'll be the only chance you'll get for many of them. Okay, tour's over. You should be good to find your way around now, right? Oh yeah, have some confidence guys!" She said when she noticed a general feeling of unease in the crowd. "I'm off, so...good luck!" And with that, Rebecca left, practically skipping in the direction of the dorms, suspenders swinging off of the back of her pants.

Shaun and Desmond made it back to their rooms together, Shaun being icily dismissive whenever Desmond tried to say something, though not wanting to walk around on his own, because you never really knew what kind of people were around. Once inside, Shaun walked over to the kettle, ready to make some tea and just not bother with Desmond for the rest of the evening ' _or the rest of my life_' his brain helpfully subbed in. He leaned back against the counter, as impatient as ever.

"Hey, I'm gonna hook up my Xbox and see if I can get any wireless, alright?"

"Whatever, just don't set anything on fire. And _do_ try not to be too loud, I'm turning in for the night, jet lag and all that."

"...Alright, um, goodnight then?"

"Hn." That was the only response that Desmond got, and when he began to open his mouth again, Shaun's glare stopped him, his mouth closing with an audible 'click'.

The kettle finished boiling, and Shaun poured himself a cup, tossing a bag of earl grey in. After rifling through the cupboards he found no sugar, so he simply sighed and retreated to his room, locking the door behind him. The Brit set his cup up on the table beside his bed and pulled out his laptop, the urge to tell his lovely audience about his experience too great, and he was hardly tired. In truth, he had been trying to change his sleeping patterns for the past couple of weeks so his jet lag wouldn't be as terrible, and it worked quite well.

The cursor sat blinking in the entry box, and Shaun got to typing, his fingers practically flying over the keys.

_Hello again, chums_

_It's been a while since I've done a double entry like this, hasn't it? Well, this is just too fucking ridiculous not to write about._

_So, my roommate (Desmond, for future reference) ended up getting here at 3, which was...whatever, who am I to judge the guy for showing up late? So everything was fine and dandy for about an hour, until we actually had a chance to talk, but then he reveals that he's actually a bartender. He's 20. That's illegal, and when I reprimanded him for it (which might have been wrong, but seriously, who does that?) He starts talking about how I'm obviously a huge loser because of my major and the fact that I don't like to drink, and that I'm British, of all things. So yeah, that didn't go very well. _

_Right, then we got to the orientation, and that was...well, as expected, really. We toured the different faculties-oh, they have a massive library! It's the same building that all the English and literature lectures are held in, which is pretty cool. We didn't really see much of the maths and sciences building, as our guide obviously had very little interest (she's completely barmy, by the way. Seriously, I think she might be on something, but she wasn't the worst person I've met today) and then we went to the arts and history building which had murals all over the walls. Seriously, the interior was covered with them, and they all related to the courses held within. The sports building was our last stop, and we just got a glance at the fields, but they were insanely large. Obviously they keep their sports teams well-funded._

_So yeah, I learnt the guy I'm to be living with is a huge twat, and that the buildings are extremely extravagant. Fun._

_I guess that's it for now...oh! I haven't heard from my brother in a while, now that I'm thinking about it. I'll let you know if I do, because it's kind of disappointing that I'm losing my last family tie. _

_Cheers,_

_Danny Wallace_

Shaun posted the entry and took a sip of his tea, planning on spending the rest of his evening scrolling through his tumblr, as he really had nothing better to do with his time. The lack of news from his brother was disappointing, because he was really the only person who still accepted him, and let Shaun know about anything that was going on at home. He was also a marine though, and Shaun knew that he was currently touring, so it was possible that he was KIA and he would never really know. It was his brother who taught him to look out for himself, and as such he used his first name as an alias online, to remind him of strengths that he wanted to have, more than anything. Instead, Shaun was cold and snarky, and often quite judgemental. It was a little upsetting. He sighed again for the however many time today, taking another sip of tea. That was life.

Desmond watched Shaun's bedroom door swing shut and huffed, crossing his arms. He thought having a roommate could be difficult, but this was insane! This Shaun guy was a huge asshole, more so than his father was, and took pretty much everything personally. Desmond was used to having to deal with tough patrons, he could adapt, but this was going to take time. He knew that he had offended him pretty badly, even though he may have deserved it, but he still had to live with the guy, so he might as well try to fix it.

The Xbox was already plugged in and running, but searching for a wireless network was fruitless. He turned the system off, and instead pulled out his sketchbook-it would be a few hours until he had to go to work anyways-and started drawing the first thing he thought of. Unfortunately for Desmond's poor one-track mind, that was Shaun, and by the time he really realised what he was doing, he had a page full of the snarky Brit.


	2. Chapter 2

When Shaun woke the next morning, it was in a considerably better mood than when he went to bed. He exited his room cautiously, not wanting to run into Desmond so early in the morning. After sleeping and experiencing the first day, he realised that his actions were really quite childish. He'd have to apologise eventually, but it was too early in the morning for such an awkward conversation. Seeing and hearing nothing, Shaun sighed in relief and walked over to the kitchen, making himself another cup of tea, hoping to wake up some. He regretted not bringing his espresso maker-the Brit pretty much lived off of caffeine.

Once that was ready, he settled down in the living room, relishing in the early morning quiet-it was only seven thirty after all. There was very little noise outside the building, and even less coming from the hallways. Shaun grabbed his sketchbook from where he left it, beside the little coffee table. It was a relatively large leather-bound book, worn from use, stuffed full of reference pictures of historical figures and places, along with several descriptive articles about a variety of topics. He flipped to the most recent entry he was working on, a pencil sketch of Leonardo Da Vinci. It was something that Shaun had started on the plane ride to America, and it was about half-done. He currently had a bit of an obsession with the man, and the conspiracies that surrounded him.

The experience was lethargic, and before he realised it, it was nine o'clock. Shaun would have continued, if not for the door suddenly slamming open, presenting a very bedraggled Desmond. Shaun fumbled his sketchbook, the sudden noise jolting him out of his own thoughts. The book clattered to the ground, papers flying anywhere. Shaun hopped off of the couch and scrambled to collect the fluttering pages. Desmond watched from the doorway, a lazy smile on his face.

"Bloody hell, Desmond! I was having a right charming morning and you barge back in here like you own the place... And what, dare I ask, are you smiling about?" At Shaun's frustrated tone, Desmond snapped back into reality, dropping to his knees and picking up several pages that had landed near the door.

"Sorry man, I didn't think the door would do that, I just had a really good night, is all. Night shift, you know?" He shrugged his shoulders in brief apology. Desmond went to hand the pages back to Shaun, then stopped, just shy of his fingers. Shaun's glasses were slightly askew, clothes crumpled-he looked relaxed, despite the angry expression. The fingers on hi s outstretched hand wiggled, but instead of just passing over the papers, Desmond found himself asking, "Do you want to go out for breakfast? I'll buy—I mean, if you're not busy or anything." Shaun hesitated, obviously weighing the pros and cons.

"Oh, why not. It's not like we have any food, anyways." The Brit's face flushed slightly, and he snatched the pages from his roommate, rising from the floor and walking quickly back to his room, shutting the door behind him. Desmond sat there watching, slightly confused.

"Right, well... I guess I'll just wait here then."

A half hour later, Desmond and Shaun found themselves in a small diner not far from campus, sitting in awkward silence in a booth. Shaun was scanning the menu, trying to avoid eye contact with his dining companion, whilst Desmond was trying to figure out something to say.

"So you draw? That looked like quite a bit of interesting content too. Like Da Vinci? Nice!" Shaun looked up at that, and saw Desmond was smiling, no hints of patronization whatsoever. It was something Shaun never expected from Desmond, from what he knew about the man so far. Maybe he really _had_ jumped the gun on his roommate.

"You... Actually care about Da Vinci? How much do you know about history, anyways?" Desmond smile widened at the question, and Shaun ducked back down, intensely studying his menu again.

"Oh man, depends on the era. I am in _love_ with the Italian Renaissance. When I was a kid I did so much research on it. I was ah... pretty much in love with Da Vinci, too. I had so much respect for him, and wanted to be just like him." It was Desmond's turn to blush, having accidentally revealed such embarrassing childhood information. "A-anyways, I remember a lot of it, and I still love it, to be honest." Shaun was about to reply, but then the waitress interrupted them. They both gave their orders, then lapsed back into silence, this time considerably less awkward than before.

"Listen, Desmond. I'm really sorry about yesterday, I was a right prick. It's just... stress, you know? Why don't we just try to start again, yeah? I'm Shaun Hastings, and I'm kind of an asshole." Shaun stuck his hand out, and Desmond shook it, his body shaking with laughter.

"Well I'm Desmond Miles, and I'm an illegal bartender. I'd say we're both... equally awesome." It was Shaun's turn to break out into a grin. Just then, their food arrived, and both men got into a conversation about interests, for the first time really appreciating each other's company. '_Maybe this year won't be so bad after all', _Shaun thought to himself. He realised that he was more content during this one meal than he had been in a long time.

After breakfast, Shaun and Desmond went their separate ways; Desmond to the grocery store, and Shaun to the campus library. Shaun wanted to scope out their selection of books, see if there was anything worth reading.

He walked through the rows, searching for titles of all genres he thought sounded interesting. The library itself was still rather quiet, as students from other years weren't coming back for another day, and those already here wanted very little to do with early schooling. Shaun found himself enjoying the silence, and the smell of all the old books. It was something familiar and safe.

After about a half hour of just wandering and browsing, Shaun came upon the 'artists throughout history' section. He smiled softly to himself, and decided to look through the books for Da Vinci and other renaissance figures. Shaun picked up several of the books, and settled down for an afternoon of reading, happy to finally just feel peaceful.

Before Shaun knew it, it was already five o'clock. He managed to spend the entire day lost in an era long since passed, something he used to do quite often when he was a child. It was like reconnecting with something that he had almost forgotten existed, and calmed the Brit down completely. Shaun sighed, and began the short trek back to his dorm room, arms full of half-finished novels.

Shaun unlocked the door, opening it to complete silence.

"Desmond? Hello, anybody home?" Shaun waited for a reply, but nothing. After a short search of their dorm, Shaun found a note on the kitchen table, explaining that Desmond was out working late again, and that his shift ended around one tonight, and he had gotten all of the groceries, and yes he did remember to get Shaun's tea. Just as he was about to turn away, another sheet under the note caught Shaun's eye. He shifted the piece of paper off, and it turned out to be a picture of Shaun, presumably drawn at breakfast. Shaun sputtered, and flushed, his entire face turning bright red. He turned quickly and stalked off to his room.

Not without taking the picture first though.

The rest of the week went by in a flash. Classes started for everyone, and Shaun was busy sorting out how he was going to handle all of them. They may have not been particularly hard, but they all contained heavy workloads-especially his ancient languages course. The Brit hadn't actually seen very much of Desmond for the past week, as their courses and Desmond's work required them to always be in different places. The last time they had hung out together was Sunday, when they spent most of the day on the couch playing Xbox-Desmond had finally got it up and running. Shaun never brought up the picture, but Desmond sometimes sent him knowing looks, and he figured that that was enough.

Shaun hated to admit it, but he was beginning to miss his idiot roommate, regardless of what he told the other man.

On Thursday, the Brit caught him walking languidly across the courtyard. He looked completely drained of energy, but content, something that Shaun was beginning to realize was more common than not with his busy roommate. Shaun would have walked over to say hi, but just as he was about to head in that direction, he noticed a petite blond woman walk up to him, and take his hand in hers. It was the woman from orientation-'_Lucy?_' Shaun thought to himself. It didn't really matter though. Shaun noticed the way that she looked at him. '_God, bloke moves fast, I guess. Still..._' Shaun was almost offended by seeing them together, his mood plummeting quickly. '_Just bloody great. This is exactly what I need. My roommate banging some barmy chick in the room next to me. Perfect, just what I always wanted.'_ He knew that wasn't it though, even if he refused to admit it to himself. He had a terrible habit of over thinking practically everything, and apparently Desmond's actions were no exception. Shaun continued on his way to class, practically storming across the courtyard, dark anger and hurt feelings practically visible in the air around him.

The rest of the day went pretty terribly for Shaun after that. Whenever someone tried to talk to him he would ignore them, or snap out at them-even the cute guy he happened to sit beside in Ancient Civilizations, which he knew that he would regret later on, but at that point in time, he couldn't be buggered.

He got out of class as quickly as possible, heading back to the dorm, and hoping to god that Desmond wouldn't actually show up today, of all days. When Shaun arrived, the room was blissfully quiet, and Desmond's sweater was gone from the coat rack by the door. Shaun sighed in relief and kicked off his shoes, trying to calm down. He knew that he was over reacting, but he couldn't help it. The relationship that Desmond was trying to form seemed to be anything but platonic, but maybe Shaun was misinterpreting. Maybe things were just that different over in America. Or maybe Desmond was just that much of an asshole. Whatever the reason, Shaun decided he was going to try to drown his childish misery in tea, books and blogging.

Shaun settled down in his now-familiar position on the couch, laptop resting gently across his lap. He spent the next couple of hours browsing the internet and brushing up on some early assignments, but nothing was really working in respects to forgetting about his fucking roommate. Shaun got hung up too easily, he knew this, but it's not like it was something that he could help. By this time it was already late in to the evening, the sun just having set. Shaun sighed to himself, his attitude not improving at all, he decided to put away his laptop and go out for a walk. The chilly air always helped to improve his mood and clear his head.

Just as he walked into his room, Shaun heard the door open. He deposited his stuff on his bed, and rushed back out, wanting to talk about what was going on between the two of them.

"Desmond I—" Lucy was sitting with Desmond, the two talking in hushed tones. Lucy was laughing softly, and Desmond had his usual lazy smile plastered on his face. Shaun flushed with embarrassment and anger, stupid and juvenile as it was. Just then Desmond looked up and flashed him a smile, but stopped when he saw the look on the Brit's face.

"Oh, well I guess I'll just leave the two of you _alone_ then." He spat, rushing quickly out of the dorm room, only stopping to slip on his shoes and coat. Desmond tried to say something, but by the time he found the words, Shaun was long gone.

Shaun spent the next half hour just wandering around campus, trying to cool down and not embarrass himself further. His head was a mess of 'whys' and he had no answers. It didn't help that he was currently closeted to those around him, _especially_ Desmond. He didn't want to just be 'that gay guy' again; this was supposed to be a new beginning, not just repeated mistakes.

His feet took him to a local coffee shop that was surprisingly open, even though it was coming on nine o'clock. He opened the door and the bell above rung, signaling the barista, who happened to be the only other person in the building. The sound system was pumping out some hard rock, something Shaun never expected to hear in a café. He figured that it was changed since it wouldn't be long until closing. The barista was busy cleaning up the back counter, and looked bored out of her mind.

"Hey, what can I get for you? Oh hey, British dude from orientation! How's your 'asshole roommate' or whatever? Has he improved yet?" '_Oh shit, it's Rebecca. Just the end that I needed to my night'_ Shaun just sighed, it's not like he could just leave at this point, and he probably needed the caffeine.

"Give me whatever you think is good. And I _do_ have a name, you know. It's Shaun, thanks for asking. Really appreciate that one," Shaun huffed, crossing his arms, but Rebecca just looked at him, a bemused expression on her face. "Oh, alright, if you really must know, my roommate-Desmond-and I were perfectly fine up until today. The asshole decides to bring some… woman home. Because that's exactly what I want to see." Rebecca shook her head once at that, and busied herself making her grumpy customer a spiced latte, something that was a shop specialty. Shaun busied himself searching his pockets for his wallet, but just then, the barista spun around, her revelation plastered on her face.

"Oh my god, do you mean Lucy? You do realize nothing's going to happen there, right man? Lucy's a taken woman, her boyfriend actually happens to go to Abstergo, if you really must know. She and Desmond are in the same psych class though, so that explains why they're friends." Shaun's expression was one of complete shock at that.

"Wait, but I saw them holding hands, and Desmond brought her home! What the bloody hell's going on then? Am I actually just misinterpreting that badly?" Shaun asked, tone almost desperate. He was beyond confused at this point, and if what Rebecca said was true, then also terribly embarrassed.

"Oh yeah, Lucy's just like that. Have you never heard of that 'across the pond'?" The last part was said in complete sarcasm, with a cheesy English accent, Rebecca smiling widely. "But seriously though, I know that they have a partnered project to work on, so I'm pretty sure that's what they were up to. What are you freaking out about, anyways? Oh my god, is there something going _on_ between you two? There totally is, isn't there! Oh, and here, by the way." Rebecca's expression was one of total and complete glee as Shaun reached for the steaming drink, taking it tentatively from the woman. At this point he was sure that she was crazy. Rebecca hopped out from behind the counter, having finished cleaning everything up, and motioned for Shaun to sit on one of the big, high-backed chairs by the fake fireplace. He did as she asked as she plopped down in the one next to him, obviously expecting some form of juicy gossip-or blackmail, because she really just seemed like that kind of person.

"N-no! There's nothing going on between us. At least, nothing that isn't platonic. I just… I don't know. He's kind of one of the only people I know here at this point, so I guess that's what's bothering me more than anything. I don't want to lose a friend, I guess," Shaun finished meekly, sipping at his latte all the while. "This is really good by the way. I don't drink coffee often, but this could be an exception," he tacked on quickly, hoping to distract his strange companion, even though it might not have been anywhere near true. It worked, as Rebecca smiled softly at this, something that suited her much better than the usual manic expression that graced her features.

"Hmm, so tell me what's been going on with you for the past week, then." At that request, Shaun looked at her inquisitively, confused as to why she'd want to know. "What? I'm a nosy person, I can't help it! And besides, you look like you need to blow off some steam, and maybe this'll help you out." Shaun just sighed, but complied with his crazy companions wishes, telling Rebecca everything that had been going on in his life so far. It was pretty much like speaking out a blog entry for him, the words coming naturally and quickly, ideas and emotions flying off of his tongue.

Before either person realized it, it was already nine-thirty, meaning that the coffee shop was closing. Shaun was curled up on the chair, his mug, whose contents were long gone, nestled in his lap. Rebecca was sprawled upside-down, her feet hanging off of the top of the chair.

Rebecca finished cleaning up, with a little help from Shaun, and before long, they were both outside in the crisp air, locking the door.

"Well thank you Shaun, for making that one of the most interesting late shifts I've ever had. I'll see you around. Oh! Why don't you give me your cell number? I'd consider us friends after that whole feelings jam, not gonna lie." Shaun rolled his eyes at that, but passed off his phone anyways.

"You know, I should really be thanking you, for putting up with all my bitching and moaning. But yes, I guess we're friends. Goodnight Rebecca." Rebecca passed the phone back, smiling again. She did it so often it may have well have been etched into her face. Shaun waved and started to walk off.

"Oh, no problem! This is going to be fucking fantastic to watch play out. Night Shaun!"

'_Wait, what?' _Shaun turned back around to ask Rebecca what she meant, but she was already long gone.

The Brit headed home in a much better mood now, especially with the knowledge that he had managed to form a friendship with someone. Shaun walked home at a moderate pace, trying not to be too late. He _did_ still have a blog to update, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

After that, Shaun tried to not take Desmond's actions at face value.

He realised that he had seriously underestimated his roommate, and that the man was nowhere near as two-dimensional as Shaun thought. Desmond was interesting, thoughtful, and very considerate to those around him, regardless of how frustrating or annoying that other person was (read: Shaun), and tried to work through any problems they might have with him.

When Shaun got home that night, he tried to apologise for flipping his shit for no reason, but Desmond wouldn't hear it. He said that he understood, and that Shaun must have just been really stressed. The Brit never actually bothered to correct him, after all, he _was_ right on some level.

In that week following, Shaun gets his first major assignment: an essay on why a certain area of history is the best and most interesting. He, of course, picked Renaissance Italy, to absolutely no one's surprise, including his professors. It was due at the end of the week, so Shaun decided that the most obvious course of action was to go and check out the library and get started-he wasn't going to be one of those immature and irresponsible students who tried to write the entire thing the night before, especially since they were only given five days. He wanted to make this the best as he possibly could.

The ginger strolled through the aisles for a little while, picking up some references that seemed like they would be useful, then settled back into one of the long window seats, books sprawled out all around him, his notebook nestled in his lap. Shaun sighed. This was probably going to be terribly hard to finish, even though he was starting so early.

He worked diligently for the better part of two hours, trying to get a good foundation to start actually writing for. Even though Shaun possessed a general idea of what he wanted to write, he still needed to cite everything, so he had to search for the points that he wanted to form. Since it was only four, he felt as though he could still fit a couple more hours of work in, hopefully uninterrupted, but just then a certain _loud_ and _immature_ young man strolled up the staircase, coming to harass Shaun.

"Oh hey, there you are Shaun! I've been looking for you all over campus for like an hour, man. Want to go and catch a movie or something?" Desmond asked, his expression bright and cheery. Just then, he noticed all of the books and research notes around Shaun. "What's all this stuff for?" The Brit rolled his eyes at this, patience already running thin. He was over thinking everything, as per usual, and the last thing he wanted was to be disturbed for no reason when he could be reading.

"This _stuff_, Desmond, as you so eloquently put it, is part of my research for an upcoming essay. I have to examine an area in history and discuss why it's the best." Shaun turned back to his notes, a silent signal for Desmond to leave him alone, but he wasn't taking the queue.

"Wow, someone's pissy today. So let me guess, some sort of Renaissance theme, am I right?"

"Yes, congratulations, you've dissected information. Would you like some kind of reward for your simply _marvelous_ detective work? Seriously Desmond, just leave me alone. I need to get this done before Friday, so excuse me if I'm a little stressed," Shaun snapped. Desmond was a little taken aback by his tone, and looked hurt. His roommate immediately regretted lashing out at the other man, and tried to apologise, but Desmond was already talking.

"Shit Shaun, I thought we were past these petty arguments, but whatever. I guess I'll see you later then." Desmond turned to leave the library, his shoulders slumped. His good mood from earlier was obviously obliterated, and Shaun felt terrible. '_Fuck it'_, he thought, and chased after the other man, several books clattering to the floor in his rush, causing a few other people in the area to snap up and glare at Shaun.

"Wait, Desmond!" Shaun called out, disrupting the quiet of the library. When the younger man didn't turn around, Shaun reached out and grabbed his arm. Desmond spun around, looking hurt and annoyed.

"Hey, what gives?"

"Desmond, look, I'm sorry, alright? I don't mean to be snippy, that's just… who I am, really. I can't help that I like to focus, and that I like the quiet, but I really don't mean to take it out on you. Why don't we go and do something on the weekend, yeah? I'll be free then, and I'm sure we'll both want to get off campus." Shaun thought the apology was rather lame, but at least it was a start. It was about time started taking charge in something other than work and research in his life.

Desmond blinked at what the other man was saying. "I know that's how you are, it just, sometimes gets kind of difficult to deal with the pessimism, you know what I mean? But sure, the weekend does sound good." he finished with a smile. Then, pausing, a thought came to Desmond. "Hey, tomorrow the sports and clubs sign-ups are on. Do you want to go together, see if there's anything worth doing?"

"Why not? I'm sure it'll be nice for both of us to get involved in something, and I don't _really_ need to be working on this essay constantly. It'll be good to get a break." Desmond smiled at that, and the two men said their goodbyes, both of them departing in good moods. Despite the fact that the two constantly but heads, they could get along pretty well at times.

Shaun got back to his work, picking up the books that he had knocked on the floor, slightly embarrassed by his brash actions, but not at all regretting it. For once, he felt in control of the things around him.

So that was where Shaun and Desmond found themselves the next day at noon; in a courtyard full of anxious freshmen and bored-looking club heads, meandering through the packed crowds. There were a surprising amount of different activities to choose from, and Shaun was discovering how broad Desmond's interests were. He would go from sports teams to poetry clubs and science groups, intrigued, though not committing to any of them. Shaun's head was starting to spin by the sheer number of introductions and information. He was trying to keep pleasant, for Desmond's sake, but if he had to sit through more than an hour of this aimless wandering with no results to show, then he would probably just leave.

Shaun snapped out of his internal musings as Desmond finished up at his latest stop, the football team. The Brit rolled his eyes at whatever they were discussing. He may have been moderately athletic, but he never had any interest in actually playing team sports, and it's not like that would change just because he was in university now.

"Hey, do you want to head over to the arts booths? You don't seem to be particularly involved in this stuff. Why don't you pick something out?" Desmond motioned to another large section of people down a ways from where they were standing. Shaun rolled his eyes, but then smirked at the other man.

"Well if you _insist_, though you must know just how much I love listening in to these...jocks pitch their team values to you." Desmond laughed at that, then remembering something, grabbed Shaun's arm, tugging him towards the other clubs. He walked through the disorganised rows with purpose, obviously looking for something. Shaun heard a soft "ah" from his friend, and was turned towards one booth in particular.

"Shaun, I'd like you to meet a professor of mine. He's a post-grad and teaches my life drawing class. A brilliant artist, if I do say so myself." The man behind the high table looked up from his sketchbook at the sound of Desmond's voice. He was, for lack of a better word, beautiful, in an incredibly unique way. His face possessed a certain boyish charm that was alight with wonder and intelligence. There was a light dusting of freckles across his nose, which complemented his impossibly blue eyes wonderfully. Shaun was absolutely stunned by the man's appearance, looking at him with an almost jealous wonder.

"Oh, you flatter me! I simply draw what I see! Something you should be working on," the man said teasingly. Shaun noticed right away that he had a slight accent, something Italian in origin. He then switched his attention to the Brit, flashing him a friendly smile. "I'm Leonardo, a pleasure to meet you. You're Shaun yes? I've heard a few things about you from Desmond! He says you're a fantastic artist, for someone who isn't taking any sort of art course. Now, I take it that your friend here hasn't actually told you about what our group is, as per his character." Shaun shook his head at that, he liked this man already. He seemed very genuine, giving him a certain degree of likeability right from the get-go.

"You would be right on that account. I'll take a wild guess and say it's some sort of art program?" Leonardo broke out into a grin, and passed Shaun and Desmond over some flyers, detailing an after school art program, that would run for extra credit.

"This course explores many different artistic mediums, and each week the class will cover a different topic. From oil paints to digital design, we'll pretty much be working with everything. This course is also for extra credit, which I know some students really want, regardless of whether or not they need it. Even better, it's also free! I'm running this because I kind of want an excuse to do more art, and I need a credit like this to complete my program." Leonardo paused, rubbing his chin in thought. "You know, I'd love to see your work Shaun, gauge where you're at so I can work on a more structured plan content-wise. Ah—if you're interested in the course, that is!" Shaun read over the sheet in its entirety, weighing the pros and cons of the course. He glanced over to Desmond for some kind of confirmation, but the man was just watching Shaun. It was... well, a little unnerving, if Shaun was to be honest. He looked up at Leonardo and thought, '_well fuck it, why not!'_

"Sure, this seems pretty interesting. If you want, I can swing by on Thursday after your class, show you my stuff then. I'm off that day, so I'll have the time to go over things with you if you want."

"Ah, excellent! Desmond, you're signing up as well, yes?" It wasn't so much a question as an order, but Desmond simply nodded anyways, and wordlessly took the sign-up sheet from Leonardo, a small smile gracing his features. Shaun saw, but he figured that he'd ask him about it later. Desmond passed the sheet to Shaun, who signed it as well. Both men said their goodbyes to Leonardo, and continued on their way through the booths. They strolled in companionable silence, but that didn't last long. Desmond spoke up first, his tone playful.

"So Leonardo's a pretty cool guy, eh?" He said, nudging Shaun in the side.

"Erm, yeah, I guess? Just what are you trying to say, Desmond?" Shaun's tone was questioning. He was truly unsure of what the other man was getting at. His mind immediately jumped to the fact that he _was_ checking Leonardo out, but there's no way Desmond noticed that. Unfortunately Shaun turned out to be wrong on that account.

"I saw the way you looked at him, man. You were totally checking him out! Careful, someone might get jealous." Desmond finished with an over-exaggerated wink. Shaun stood there, almost dumbstruck with how blunt the American was being. His brain kick started, and he sputtered, trying to find a way to reply to that.

"I-what, no! Bloody hell, how would you even know if I was checking him out anyways?" Shaun was blushing, being terribly flustered by Desmond's unexpected remark, trying to deflect it. He wasn't entirely sure if the other man was joking or not, and the ginger wasn't sure if he wanted to find out.

"Shaun, calm down, I was kidding! Leonardo is pretty attractive, though, you gotta admit." Shaun just nodded at that, not trusting himself to say anything. Desmond looked Shaun over, smiling softly to himself. "You know, you're adorable when you're flustered. A-and don't be offended by that! It's the truth."

"Ah, thanks, I guess," Shaun replied meekly, blushing even harder. His entire face was bright red, complimenting his hair quite well. Desmond was still looking at Shaun, studying his face with that lazy half smile. It was unnerving for Shaun, and the Brit spun around in the direction that they had been travelling in, trying to calm himself down. "Come on Desmond, let's get moving." The Brit strode off, attempting to present an air of confidence, another thing that Desmond found absolutely adorable. The younger man shook his head softly and followed his roommate through the cluttered booths, scanning them once again for something interesting.

A short time later, Desmond made another stop, dragging a rather disgruntled Shaun behind him. Both men had completely recovered from Shaun's earlier embarrassment, and continued on in their usual snappish ways.

The booth that they stood in front of was less of a 'booth' booth and more of a 'shady place one would expect to obtain drugs from' booth. Apparently Desmond judged this worth looking at, though, something Shaun wasn't too happy about. When they approached, the man behind the counter was friendly enough, if not a little too sarcastic. He introduced himself as Malik, and he looked about as thrilled to be at this panel as Shaun currently felt. As Desmond was looking over some pages scattered across the table for the club-which turned out to be about free running- Shaun was making idle chat with the other man.

"So why did you decide to get involved with all this free running... stuff, anyways? What's the appeal?" Malik ran a hand through his thick black hair, and shook his head.

"Honestly, it was not really my decision. The co-leader, Altair, is one of my oldest friends, and he was always really in to all this climbing, and trying to prove himself and whatnot. After years-and I really do mean years-of heckling me to try it, I finally went running with him. That first night I broke my nose in two places, but it was such a rush, that I couldn't help but go again." He sighed softly, reflecting on those past events. "It's quite fun once you're actually trained, which is why we decided to organise running groups like this. People should have the opportunity to see parts of this city that they never would have even thought existed, and we provide that."

Shaun considered what Malik had said. It was an interesting concept, though not necessarily for him. Shaun had a... thing with heights and not being safely restrained at them. As he was mulling these ideas over, Desmond grabbed the signup sheet off of the table and penciled his name in. He opened his mouth, looking to ask Shaun something, but the Brit cut him off.

"No Des, just no. I'm not taking part in this, though you're more than welcome to." Desmond just nodded at that, no reason to argue the point. Shaun turned to address both men at once. "Right, I'm off. I really can't stick around here forever, so sorry Desmond. Malik, nice meeting you. I may drop in on the club sometime, so long as it doesn't involve me climbing anything." Malik rolled his eyes and scoffed at that. Shaun smirked, and continued. "Desmond, are you coming, or do you want to stick around here for a while more?"

"Eh, I might as well head out now. There's no point in having too much on my plate at once, so two clubs should be enough." Shaun simply nodded, and headed off in the direction of their dorm room, motioning for the other man to follow. Desmond stayed around to ask Malik something, then jogged to catch up. The men walked together, making small talk and joking the whole way.

Later that evening, Shaun and Desmond were lounging together on the couch, Desmond working on an art assignment, and Shaun typing away at another blog entry, updating his readers on recent events. The rest of their day was relatively bland, an excuse to catch up on assignments more than anything else. Just then, Desmond paused and looked up from his sketchbook, his eyes alight, suddenly thinking of something.

"Shaun, what about if instead of seeing a movie on the weekend, we go and catch the first Assassin-Templar soccer game? I saw the schedule on the table when I was scoping out the sport teams, and I thought it might be your cup of tea-uh, pardon the pun." Shaun paused in his typing, but continued to look down at his computer screen, once again weighing whether or not he wanted to see the game. At this point, Desmond had begun to realise that this was just how the Brit processed events and decided if he really wanted to do things or not. He didn't mind waiting, but sometimes it could be a bit of a disconcerting expression. Shaun looked up from his laptop then, actually _looked_ at Desmond, causing the man to squirm. The ginger looked as if he was about to say something, but changed his mind at the last second.

"Sure Des. But don't think that I want to go because I'm British! That's got nothing to do with it!" Desmond broke out into a grin, glad that Shaun's attention was less intense. The Brit spoke up again. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know what the deal is between these Assassins and Templars, would you? I've heard a bit about them over the past couple of days, but I don't really know any specifics." Desmond grinned at the question, as if he had been waiting for it.

"Oh man, I was talking to Lucy about this the other day. Apparently Abstergo and Animus have _hated_ each other since the schools were built. The founders of both schools were really huge rivals, who both had the same goal in life, but wanted to go about achieving it in different ways. Animus is about finding your own way and creativity, as you know, but Abstergo is about control, and trying to produce like, these cookie-cutter students. Both provide higher education and are ivy-league schools, so you can see where this would be a problem. Now," Desmond shifted on the couch, his attention all on Shaun. The bartenders hands were flying everywhere while he was talking, making him very animated. He was obviously deeply interested by this feud, and Shaun had a sneaking suspicion this was a big part of the reason he wanted to go to the club fair.

"This hatred that these men had for one another just kept growing and growing, and when the schools got around to putting together these sport teams, it just sort of manifested. So these matches between the schools? Some of the most brutal things you'll ever watch in your entire life. They've actually been banned from the rugby and hockey leagues around the state because of it. It's crazy!" Desmond finished with a flourish. Shaun had a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. "Hey, who do you think you're laughing at? This is interesting shit, man!"

"Oh, I know it is. You're just so, so animated when you talk about it. It's terribly entertaining." The Brit said, trying to speak through his giggles. Taking a second to calm down, he then continued. "Anyways, I would love to see how this plays out. It all sounds a little ridiculous, but what do I know? I guess we'll see on the weekend."

After that, their conversation trailed off, and both men returned to their previous activities, both a little happier. The weekend would certainly be interesting, and a little school spirit was never a bad thing. '_Especially when the bloody idiot practically asks you out on a date,_' Shaun mused to himself. '_Without even realising it! And I almost asked him about it. Oh, I am so buggered._'


	4. Chapter 4

Oh my GOD i am so sorry for the delay with this. This chapter was just not fun to write. The whole thing was an uphill battle, and it took FOREVER to finish. To make it up to you guys though, i'm going to do another update tomorrow, as i already have the next chapter almost completed. Also, i'm on break now, so i MIGHT even get a third finished, which is where there are more plot points, and things really start to move, so that'll be nice.  
As a disclaimer about this chapter, i know virtually nothing about sports, so i'm really sorry if the sports stuff is crap (i googled most of the information for it, though thankfully it doesn't really follow any rules, so it wasn't so terrible). Anyways, enjoy!

That Saturday morning, Shaun found himself jogging through the park by the school with Desmond, the morning air crisp in his lungs. For someone who prided himself on being an intellectual, he was in surprisingly good shape (if you asked him about it, he'd make some quip about bullies and his sexuality, though in reality he used to be a part of his school's track team).

The men ran together in companionable silence, the sounds of the waking city only just beginning to disrupt the ambiance. The two eventually passed by a bench, and Desmond motioned for them to stop and rest. The younger man was grinning and panting heavily, his breath fogging the air. Shaun sat down and closed his eyes, enjoying the fall weather. It had been quite some time since he had the opportunity to go running, and he reveled in the activity.

Shaun slouched back onto the bench and closed his eyes, sighing. It was nice to be able to have the luxury again, and despite how often he and Desmond butt heads, the Brit really _did _enjoy the younger mans company. Shaun stared out across the park, looking back at the university dorms they came from. They were large, looming shapes on the horizon, but they didn't look particularly intimidating, despite the sheer size. Flipping around and looking towards the other side of the park, Shaun could just barely make out the silhouette of Abstergo University. That building was even sleeker than Animus was, and was much more formidable. The ginger sighed softly to himself; he had been considering Abstergo when he had first been researching universities in America, and of course the rival school had been one. Despite the short amount of time that Shaun had been at Animus, he knew that he had made the right choice.

Just then, Shaun caught Desmond staring at him out of the corner of his eye. Desmond looked away quickly and blushed, looking uncharacteristically flustered, so Shaun just let it go.

"Hey uh, are you ready to get going again? It's coming on seven-thirty, and I don't want to be too late getting back to the dorm." Desmond asked absent mindedly, as if his thoughts were in a whole other world. Shaun knew better than to ask about it, and simply nodded in conformation.

"Sure mate, have we really been out here an hour already? God, I didn't realize I missed running this much." Shaun stood up with that, stretching his arms above his head. Desmond followed suit, and soon both men were on their way.

"You know Shaun, you're free to come running with me whenever. All you gotta do is ask." Desmond shot the older man a brief smile.

"Er, really? I'll keep that in mind, then. I didn't know you tolerated my company that well!" Shaun replied jokingly.

"Well it's just ah… never mind." Desmond's eyes darted to the side. The same shyness that had been plaguing the usually outgoing man was still there, and it troubled Shaun.

"Desmond, are you alright? Seriously, you've been out of it all morning."

"I-I'm fine, Shaun! Why would you ask? There's nothing wrong!"

"I… alright, if you're sure. But you do know that you don't have to be afraid to tell me anything, yeah? I know I can be a bit of a tit sometimes, but we're also friends." Desmond looked guilty at that.

"Ah, okay. I'm sorry for being all weird this morning. Really though, it's nothing to worry about!" Shaun simply nodded and kept running.

A short while later, Shaun and Desmond were back in the dorm, freshly showered and lounging around on the couch. Desmond was, for once, working harder than Shaun. He was sketching away furiously, every so often checking his phone or replying to Shaun's questions. Shaun, on the other hand, was caught up in one of the video games that Desmond had brought with him. The Brit was coming to realize that his roommate had surprisingly good taste in practically everything, from food to games to art supplies.

Between shooting at aliens and making moral decisions, Shaun was also going through his email. He finished with the last new newsletter (from the school, about activities and whatnot. _It came a little late though_, Shaun thought to himself) and was about to go back to his game, when his inbox updated. The older man glanced down, and then did a double take. The message was from his brother. Practically throwing the controller in his rush to open it, he heard Desmond yelp 'hey!' in protest, but paid him no mind. With shaking hands, Shaun clicked the link, slightly afraid as to what was written. It had been a long time since he had heard from his brother, and he had really been getting nervous as to why that was.

_Hey little brother!_

_I hope you've been doing well. You're finally going to university eh? It's about damn time. I always knew you were too smart for that fucking town, it was just a matter of time until you realized it. I've been doing pretty well over here for the most part. Sure, there's more sand than anything else, but it's not that bad. We lost someone last week, Jenkins. He was a good kid, but a bit too exuberant, and that got him killed. Aside from that though, not much else has been happening with me._

_Have you heard that mum and dad found out about you leaving? She acted like such a victim about it, like she didn't think it was fair to our family that you went to America. She managed to eat up all of my Skype time talking about it. You know I don't like talking badly about her, but she's kind of a bitch. _

_You know, after this tour, I think I'm going to just stay home. I'm sick of this, man. I want a family, and I can't put them through the whole, soldier's wife deal. Sometimes I wish I was more of an intellectual like you, you know? I know you don't think too highly of yourself, but you're one of the strongest people I've ever met. Sure, it's great to serve in the name of queen and country and all that, but it's no life._

_Oh! Since you're at this new university, do you think that you'd be able to get Skype and chat that way? I don't have that much time to email people, which was why this was so late (I'm really sorry about that, by the way. I should really start making you my priority; you're much easier to talk to than the rest of our family, haha!). So yeah, if you're up for it, let me know, and email me your name, alright? _

_One last thing, before one of my mates starts yelling at me to get off, again. More than anything, I want to see you happy, Shaun. You deserve it, more than anyone I know. So try and do that for me, alright? Find something that makes you happy._

_Shit, I'll talk to you later, alright? Don't forget about the Skype!_

_-Danny_

Upon finishing reading, Shaun let out the breath he had been holding. He glanced over at Desmond, who was looking at the Brit worriedly.

"Ah, sorry about that, mate. I didn't mean to freak you out or anything. I just got an email from my brother, that's all." Desmond's look turned to one of disbelief.

"Wait, you're making such a big deal out of an email from your brother?" Desmond paused, considering. "I take it you don't talk to him that often. Well, you wouldn't because you're in America anyways, but you looked seriously freaked out. He's not like, in the army or something, is he?" Shaun blinked, surprised by the question.

"That was… surprisingly perceptive of you. I don't get to talk to him often, no. He's part of the British Marines, so any period where I don't hear from him freaks me out, more than it probably should, but he's the only family that I actually talk to now, because, well… yeah, you get the idea." Shaun finished, mumbling.

Desmond smiled brightly at the praise from the usually stingy Brit, but then looked concerned.

"You know the same thing you said to me earlier applies to you as well, right?"

"Hm?"

"The thing about being there for me if something's wrong. We _are _friends, and I know you have a lot of shit on your plate as it is, so just, if there's anything I can do to help, let me know, alright?" Desmond flashed one of his rare, personal smiles at Shaun, and the ginger felt himself going red, still a little unused to such kindness.

"Well, there may be one thing you could help me with…" Shaun said, glancing back to the email that was still up on the screen. Desmond leaned over, trying to read the screen and talk at the same time.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"

Shaun motioned toward one of the lines on the computer, "do you know how to work Skype?"

Once Desmond finished laughing, and Shaun had turned bright red at his lack of knowledge on something so common, Desmond got around to showing him how to install the program. The two only had a short time left, and by the time they were done they were practically running out the dorm to make it to the soccer match on time. Desmond had, once again, managed to misplace his sweater, and refused to leave the room without it, claiming that he'd be too cold at the field at the end of the match, later on in the evening. Shaun was now waiting impatiently at the door, resisting the urge to simply yank Desmond out of his room, with or without the hoodie.

Thankfully for the young bartender, he reappeared at just that moment, movements echoing those on the day of orientation. Desmond passed Shaun, and shot him a smile over his shoulder.

"Come on man, are you coming or what? We don't want to be late for the first game!" Desmond said teasingly to the Brit. Shaun stood in the doorway, glaring daggers at the back of the offending object.

The two men proceeded down the hall, bantering aimlessly, whilst walking quickly. They really _were _going to be late to the match if they didn't hurry up, even though the field was just a short walk away. Meanwhile though, Desmond was pestering Shaun with questions about English football, and what it was like where Shaun grew up. The ginger answered the questions readily; after all, football was a pretty big part of his childhood before everything happened.

Upon entering the lobby of their dorm, Desmond stopped and stared at the sheer number of people, all dressed in school colours, trying to exit the building or crowd around the screens. Shaun smirked at how shocked his friend looked, and tugged him away through a side door.

"What, nobody does this for your American football at the bar? I'm surprised Desmond!" The Brit finished teasingly. Desmond glared playfully at Shaun, and released himself from the loose grip on his arm.

"It's not that people don't react like this over football, but I'm surprised that soccer's such a big deal to these guys, especially university level." Shaun considered this. Desmond did have a point.

"But, when you talked about the match when you first asked me, you made it seem like it _was_ a really big deal." Shaun raised his eyebrows at his companion.

"I know, I know, but I thought it might not even be with the students, only the players," Desmond said, excited as to how big this match seemed to be. He dug his phone out of his pocket, checking the time.

"Oh, shit! We need to hurry! It'll be starting in like, ten minutes, and I don't want to miss a second!"

"I fucking _told_ you to just leave the sweater, mate!" With that, the two boys dashed off across the courtyard.

_This match really _was_ going to be crazy, if the size of the crowd alone was anything to go on, _Shaun thought to himself. The stands were packed, and Shaun was thankful for Desmond's planning ahead and buying tickets. Their seats were close to ground, and getting to them was a struggle, because the stadium was just so packed. Once properly seated, Desmond ran off to get drinks and food, not wanting to be interrupted halfway through the match. Shaun had a few minutes to himself, and he took the time to observe the stadium seriously.

The thick concrete of the stands was much more like that of a professional arena than that of a University field, no matter how prestigious it was. The field was pristine, a soft green colour, as though it was fresh grass. The lines that bisected the turf were fresh and bright. Even though it was the first match of the year, there had already been several practices, and the amount of maintenance that it would take to keep everything so new-looking was unbelievable.

As Shaun gazed around at the fans surrounding him, he noticed how they were practically thrumming with energy. The Assassin symbol decorated all sorts of clothing items, from scarves to hats to coats; even a few custom-made flags were flying. The Templars were easily distinguishable from the Assassins, and their blocky cross pattern seemed much more intimidating. The small clusters of fans for the opposing teams were tightly-knit, and the Animus students who surrounded them kept shooting cautious glances their way. Everyone was excited for the match to start, and to show just how much school spirit they possessed. Shaun shivered, a chill running down his spine in anticipation. _Their behaviour is infectious. It's more hype for anything than I've seen in a while,_ he thought.

Desmond reappeared at that moment, carrying food for both the men to eat. The pile of junk food was perched precariously in his arms, and Shaun just laughed at the ridiculous way his friend was trying to maneuver.

"Desmond, do you really think that we'll be able to eat all that? I mean, I for one tend not to try and stuff myself with my weight in food," the Brit said. He still rose to relieve the tanned man of some of his load, and when he could safely sit without dropping anything, Desmond flopped down into his seat.

"Hey man, I really don't want to miss a minute of this. And who says I expect you to eat all this, anyways? I know you hardly eat sometimes-I _do_ live with you, remember?" Desmond took a bite of the burger he was holding, sighing as he savoured the taste of the meat. He shot Shaun a smug look as he chewed, but the juices running down over his hand ruined the image, and Shaun just rolled his eyes.

The roar of the crowd centered the two men back on the field, and as the Animus players ran out from their dressing room the cheering only grew louder. Shaun and Desmond were forced to their feet to be able to see over the heads of the fans in front of them, and the ginger just barely caught a glimpse of the players through the throng of bodies in front of him.

From what he _could_ see, the players seemed to be dressed in white, with red accents on their shorts. The assassin symbol dominated the front of their shirts, clearly identifying the men as Animus players. Shaun couldn't help but get swept up with the excitement of the crowd, and his cheering grew louder, meshing nicely with the voices around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Desmond also cheering, with his arms in the air. _Heh, he's so into this. I will admit though, it really is quite invigorating._

As the Animus players took their places, the gates on the other side of the field opened, and the Abstergo team took the field. The feeling of the crowd immediately changed, and the cheers were silenced, except for a few groups of Templar fans.

The Templars were obviously trying to present themselves much more regally than the home team, and their gold uniforms were practically glinting in the sunset. Their shadows were long, as the flood lights had yet to come on, and made the team look far more intimidating. As they rushed to centerfield, A few 'boos' were shouted from the stands.

As both teams took their places, the screens around the stadium powered on, as well as the floodlights. There was one right across from where the two roommates were sitting, and Shaun focused his attention on that screen, as his eyes were already starting to bother him from the strain of trying to identify the small players.

The refs crossed to center, the one who was obviously the head carrying the ball, and as he reached the two groups, the crowd was practically silent, though no less excited. His headset mike clicked on, and he dropped the ball to the grass.

"Alright, I'm not going to tell you that I want a clean game, because I know that's pretty much impossible," The crowd cheered again, and the ref continued. "What I don't want is any serious injuries. No concussions or broken bones in the first game, alright? I reserve the right to shut things down, with the help of security, if I think things are getting out of hand, so keep that in mind." The camera focused on the ref and what Shaun assumed were the two head players. They bore serious expressions, and were nodding with every word that the man in stripes was saying.

"Okay, am I understood?" There was a chorus of 'yes's from the teams, and the ref solemnly nodded his head. "Ball goes to home team then, as per tradition," He kicked over the ball from underfoot. "Get into positions, and when I blow this whistle, start!" The man jogged out of the way of the players, and they rushed back to their spots on the field, eager to get underway. The striker for the Assassin's was dribbling the ball between his feet, a determined look on his face. Once the goalies had reached their nets, the shrill shriek of the whistle cut through the air, and the game was on.

In a rush, the striker surged forward, dodging past the Templar player in front of him. The player to his left sprinted ahead, checking the other templar forward in front of him on his way by. The bulky man was spun off balance, and took a few seconds to regain his footing. The Assassin with the ball managed to bypass the front line, but was caught by the midfielders. He tried to swing left, but the player in front of him slid, and caught the ball out from under his feet, and threw the Animus player back. He landed hard on his elbows, and the Templar's gained possession of the ball.

The midfielder recovered quickly from his slide, and hopped to his feet, kicking the ball to the striker who was back on center line. He flawlessly received the shot, and spun quickly, eyes on the goal-literally. He jogged forward, steps cautious, dribbling the ball. Predictably, the midfielders swarmed to steal the ball, and the Templar managed to dodge the first two, cutting in between them. As they slid out behind him, thrashing on the ground and trying to get back up as quickly as possible, a third Assassin cut out in front of the Templar, sweeping him off his feet.

The two men crashed to the ground, and the ball drifted off to the side to be picked up by one of the other midfielders. The players on the ground didn't care though, they were more interested in trying to claw each other's faces off. The Assassin had the upper hand, and was straddling the lithe forward, pinning him to the ground and hammering his meaty fists into his face and torso; anywhere he could reach. The Templar had his hands up, trying to protect himself from the barrage of fists, with little success.

Back up in the stands, Shaun and Desmond watched with abject horror written all over their faces. Desmond's food lay forgotten in his lap, the mere thought of trying to eat making him sick. _Holy shit_, Shaun thought to himself._ Is this actually what the two schools condone? I can't believe this kind of behaviour is legal_! The Brit looked over at Desmond, just to get his eyes off the field, as well as the screen in front of him. The bartender caught Shaun looking at him, but didn't tear his eyes away from the screen.

"This is probably one of the most fucked up sporting events I've ever seen. Holy shit. This is even worse than MMA!" Desmond hissed to Shaun. "It's so terrible that I can't even tear my eyes away. Is this even legal?"

"I wonder about the legality of this, as well. It's pretty bloody awful." Shaun felt a tap on his shoulder, and both he and Desmond turned to the man sitting behind them.

"I think that by your conversation, this would be your first game, am I right?" The two roommates nodded at the Italian stranger His accent was heavy, but not marring. "Ah, then I suppose their excessive violence must seem shocking. You shouldn't worry though, the players have been at this long enough to know what really does damage, and what is more for show. It's like less of a brawl, and more of an orchestrated attack; surprisingly well planned." Despite the stranger's reassurances, Shaun was still rather skeptical as to the legitimacy of the match.

"Sorry, but how do you know all this? And who are you, anyways?" Desmond beat the stranger to his own introduction, though. Eyes lighting up with sudden recognition.

"Oh, right! You're that guy who's always trying to get Leonardo to let you model. I'm surprised I didn't recognize you right away, actually," Desmond said, looking incredibly smug with himself.

"Ah, you're… in that class? That's a bit embarrassing. My name is Ezio, and I _am_ actually a model. I do work for other departments, but your Leonardo? His art is so brilliant, that I couldn't possibly miss the opportunity to convince him to draw me. As for why I know about the methods of the Assassins and Templars? I used to play for them. That is also where I got this scar, see?" Ezio pointed to the jagged line cutting through his lips. He was a very attractive man Shaun noted, and the scar only added to the appeal. "Anyways, fear not, for the referee is very good, and would not allow the players to injure one another too easily."

"Ah, well that's… reassuring?" The fact that the matches weren't an all-out battle to the death relieved some of Shaun's anxiety, but he was still uncomfortable with watching them.

Turning back to Desmond, whose eyes had drifted back to the field, he was going to ask if it was possible for them to leave, but the Brit saw how interested his roommate was in the game. _Oh, shit. I can't try and pull him away from this, _Shaun sighed, settling back into his seat for another 90 minutes of insanity.

At last, the match was over. The Assassins won, much to the disdain of the Templar players, who almost started an all-out brawl when the final whistle was blown, but security moved onto the field to usher them off. As Ezio said, there were no major injuries, a few broken bones, and a player on each team was benched because of a fight, but overall it wasn't as terrible as Shaun thought. Desmond absolutely adored it, and by the end of the game was cheering with the rest of the crowd (well, screaming was probably more like it). The two men were exiting the stadium with the rest of the swarm of students, trying to navigate through the mass of bodies so they could get back to their dorm, but it was proving to be surprisingly difficult. Shaun was pushed and shoved between small gaps, trying to keep his eyes locked on that obnoxious white sweater.

The historian was elbowed particularly hard by a rowdy frat boy, losing his footing for a second. The man gave a mumbled apology over his shoulder and continued on his way. Within those few seconds, Shaun had managed to lose sight of Desmond entirely, which wouldn't be a big deal, except because of how thick the crowd was, he was getting far too disoriented. Shaun sighed, and tried to keep moving through the bodies, not really knowing what direction he was going in.

After about a minute, he heard his name whispered from the shadows, followed by a quick tug on his sweater. Stumbling blindly after the hand that was leading him (Which he _really_ hoped was Desmond), the Brit found himself in a side hall, yanked out of the flow of people. The hand on the back of his shirt released, and Shaun spun to face the other man, who was actually Desmond. Lurking up ahead, he caught sight of the back of another man's shirt, but paid little attention, figuring it was just another stranger who happened to find the shortcut out of the massive interior of the arena.

"Hey, are you alright? I'm sorry I just left you back there. I caught sight of someone I knew, and he pointed out this shortcut to me," Desmond motioned vaguely down the hallway. "Oh, by the way, your glasses…" Desmond reached up to Shaun's face, and repositioned the frames, which had been knocked askew. He let his hands linger at the sides of the gingers face for longer than necessary; not enough to be awkward, but enough for Shaun to feel the heat starting to rush to his cheeks. Desmond's stare was intense, seeming to concentrate on every pore of Shaun's face. Just when he was about to do something though, the American released his grip, and turned quickly on his heel, walking briskly down the tunnel.

"Uh, I think we should probably head back now, don't you?"

"… Sure…" Shaun stood at the entrance, slightly dazed, and wholly confused by what had just happened, but recovered, and ran to catch up with the other man. _What the fuck just happened? Something is going on with Desmond, and I need to figure out what it is._


End file.
